A Day Well Spent: A Farce, in One Act

by John Oxenford

MISS B. Husband?

MRS. S. Yes, yes, Mrs. Steele; that gentleman, Mr. Steele, has confessed all. You sly creature.

BOLT. Yes, yes!—good by! You may settle this discussion among yourselves.

MRS. S. Yes, yes! this gentleman told me he was your husband.

MIZ. True, madam; stick to that. He told you so; mind, I had nothing to do with it.

MISS B. (Aside.) It may be an eccentric method of making an offer. He is not bad looking, and opportunities are—alas!—not too frequent. I’ll humour it.—And so my dear Steele’s confess’d?

BOLT. Ha, ha, ha! Yes.—(Aside.) Dear Steele! She jumps at it.—I’m magnetic steel. (Whisper.) I say, what’s the meaning of this?

MIZ. Don’t ask me; you’re the man of talent—I know the meaning of nothing.

MISS B. Oh, you naughty man; when you so faithfully promised to keep it a secret.